


Just a fantasy.

by katasstropheee



Category: Charmed (TV 2018)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Awkward Boners, Begging, F/M, Foursome - F/M/M/M, Mild Smut, Sexual Humor, currently the silliest fic i've ever written, i apologise in advance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:55:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26985535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katasstropheee/pseuds/katasstropheee
Summary: ‘The training orb is mainly used for mental stimulation and instruction, NOT for innate fantasies.’Well, what Harry doesn’t know can’t hurt him. Right?
Relationships: Harry Greenwood/Macy Vaughn
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	Just a fantasy.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is dedicated to Sadie/[sadienicole00](http://twitter.com/sadienicole00) on twitter. HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABE! I HOPE YOU HAVE AN AMAZING DAY!!
> 
> This idea was passed around the hacy gc a while ago, and i figured "what better gift to give to Sadie than a Hacy Foursome??" This is officially the strangest and most cracked-up fic i've written. But I had a blast doing so. And I hope you all have a blast reading it.

Harry stood at Macy’s door, right on the threshold. He had permission to enter, of course. Has had so since their relationship blossomed to more than just career-engaged and friendship. Now they shared a bed, which was more intimacy that Harry had felt in quite some time.

Even so, everything was still new to the both of them. His hesitance to enter the room was not strange, but he really shouldn’t feel this way anymore.

He scolded himself, taking a step into the bare expense, eyeing the glass trinkets and products that littered Macy’s vanity. The fresh, folded pile of clothes on her chest. The ruffled quilt on her bed. He sighed softly, remembering that particular morning. It had taken them much too long to get out of bed, and even longer to stop kissing each other as they got dressed and braced the day.

The fondness stayed on his mind, and melted through his body as he reached the small table beside the bed. The small glass orb, once used for training purposes that now collected dust up in the attic, sat right where Macy had left it. She hadn’t given any explanation to why she took it. Harry had tried to discern a reason himself, but nothing came to mind.

But what would Macy have to hide? Perhaps she was simply putting her powers to use. She recently got her demon abilities back and had been looking for excuses to practice. The orb would be perfect for that.

Confident with that conclusion, he held the orb in his hand. It was cool to the touch, but somehow still felt warm. He flicked an eyebrow, taking a quick sweep of the room before turning back, and reciting the spell to turn on the simulation.

There are many ways to use the orb, and it can hold many simulations at the one time, depending on who’s using it. It is a bit too easy to end up in someone else’s mirage, if you don’t mean to. But in this case, Harry does. From his role as their whitelighter, he should be aware of the sister’s current abilities and training regimes. And if Macy won’t share what she has learnt thus far in her training, he would simply need to see it for himself.

This was the mindset he held as his eyes closed, and he felt his mind twist through a tight fog, coming out the other side into open air. He took a breath in, finding stability on the ground. He felt something course scratching at his feet. Looking down and peering through one eye, he noticed the sheer, cream carpet from Macy’s floor. He appeared to still be in her bedroom. _Strange_. He opened the other eye, blinking at the absence of morning light. It was dark outside of the window, with candles placed carefully about the room giving it a soothing and alluring atmosphere.

The bed, once dawned with a thick comforter, is now covered in satin sheets. And Macy sits in the center of it. Her hair dips low past her shoulders, still curly but silky beneath the gold light. Her skin glows with perspiration, and her lips are parted. Her tongue darts out, licking at dry skin. She seems nervous, but determined.

She is gazing at someone in the shadows. A silhouette that not even Harry can make out. He wants to step closer and see who it is, but his feet are planted to the floor. After all, this isn’t his vision he’s having. He is simply an observer. _An uninvited observer_ , he thinks, only now questioning his morals.

He should be berating himself for such disloyal behaviour. Hell, he could always leave. He should. But he can’t take his eyes off Macy. It’s not like he hasn’t seen her this way before. Or this dishevelled. He recognises the satin dress she wears, its spaghetti straps barely holding on to the curve of her shoulders. He swallows, his nerves ticking closer to desperation with every second that ticks by.

“Come closer” she whispers. It bounces off every wall and corner, and sounds louder than Harry had anticipated. “Please. I can’t hold on much longer.”

The silhouette steps away from the dark, and into the warm glow of candlelight. Dressed in a fine suit, jacketless, with sleeves rolled up to the elbows and tie loose from the collar, is Harry. Himself. Well, this was the last thing he’d imagined he’d see. And dare he say he’s… flattered, to be seen in such an enticing light by the woman he loves.

“In a moment darling. Just… hold on for me.” And that voice – smooth, drenched in heat and hard liquor. Is that how he sounds to Macy? In the throes of love and eroticism, is that how he makes her feel?

“Just… please” she pleads, dragging a hand up her leg and bringing the seam of her dress with it. The serene expense of her revealed skin has Harry licking his lips too.

Suddenly, the door opens. It whines against the stress of its slow descent, but shuts just as quickly when the stranger has completely entered the room. There are no shadows to hide this man’s face. And just as flawless as the Harry that stands at the foot of the bed, is this other Harry. Another Harry. But this time, Harry can see the small inflictions that separates him from the other. From himself.

He clenches his fist tightly, enough so that his nails dig into his hand deeply. He relishes the pain as his anger builds.

“Jimmy.”

 _Wait_ , that wasn’t his voice. Macy is looking at the intruder, the same pleading expression painting her face with desperation.

“Not yet, dove” he says, leaning a hand over to brush her cheek. She leans in, craving the touch even as it moves out of her reach. “We are still expecting one more.”

One more? Harry’s mind is already unravelling at the sight before him. Of himself, and his other half, standing over Macy in her barest, most vulnerable form. Who else could they be expecting?

“It’s okay, Macy.”

Harry turns his head to the right. Someone had been leaning there against the window this entire time without his awareness. No, not just someone. “Now, this is ridiculous” he muttered to himself as a third, perfect image of himself stood to attention and approached the bed. He walked right through Harry, who barely felt the sensation, and addressed Macy. She was leaning forward, anticipating his approach with a curious twinkle in her eye.

“James” she uttered. The strap on her left shoulder finally gave way, sliding down her arm and revealing far too much breast for Harry’s liking. At least, for right now. The discomfort of the scene was starting to affect him, in ways he understood, and ways he didn’t. He could understand the sweat on his brow, and the confusion in his mind. But the tightness in his groin? Why was that so apparent right now?

“Macy” ‘James’ uttered back, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress. As he did, Macy leaned forward. She was now on all fours, back arched, brushing her lips over this man’s cheek, ghosting his lips. He wore a smirk of wanting, of victory. Harry swallowed again. “I think it’s time. Would you agree?” He held out a hand, expecting obedience.

 _At least he was asking for permission_ , Harry thought, before shaking his head at the easiness of that thought. How could he think any of this was okay?

But how could he judge? He was in Macy’s fantasy. Her _private_ fantasy. He had no reason to be here, no responsibility for what Macy thought, or wanted.

But he couldn’t look away. He struggled to blink, moving his line of sight from the bed, to each of his faces, all mesmerised by the same illusion he was seeing. As James kissed Macy back, finally, his hand removing the last strap of Macy’s gown, the two other men were beginning to undress, each taking a place on the bed, surrounding Macy but keeping their respected distance. The temperature in the room started to rise and-

_Zap!_

Harry took a big gulp of air in, stumbling back until his legs hit the edge of the bed. He collapsed, eyes closed and unfamiliar with his surroundings. He knew he was still in her room, the glare behind his shut lids determining that it was once again morning. He had been pulled from the mirage. But how?

“Harry, come on. Just focus on me.”

His eyes shot open. Maggie stood before him, bracing his shoulders tightly. He was still a little numb from the effects of the orb, but he could tell Maggie was using some magic to get his mind to concentrate. He appreciated it, tapping her forearm to let her know she could let go. She did, and stood to full height over him. “Where were you just now?”

“What?” he asks, his head still reeling.

“You were just… standing here. Groaning. I thought you were possessed or something.”

“Oh. Um-“ He was at a loss for words, and could barely make eye contact with the young witch, who seemed to have no trouble staring him down. But what could he tell her? There was no way to explain his actions without inviting conflict. And he knew what he had done was beyond immoral, so wasn’t it enough for him to simply beat himself up over it?

Still, Maggie expected an answer. She was still staring with concern as he finally lifted his gaze to meet her. “Maggie, I-“

“Look Harry” she interrupted, much to Harry’s relief. “Whatever you choose to use the orb for, is entirely your business. But if you’re… hurting yourself-“

“No, no. Maggie, I would never” he reassured, taking her hand and squeezing her palm softly.

“Well, good. Cause if you were, I would need to set up an intervention, and I do not have the time to… uh-“ She froze. Mouth gaped. Her eyes tracked on something below his chin.

Then suddenly, she was removing her hand from his grasp and turning to face the wall. “Geez, okay. I… I don’t think I can deal with this.”

“Maggie, what are you talking about?”

“Harry, it’s okay” she said, her arms risen in a calming gesture. She still refused to turn, or meet his stare over her shoulder. “I’ll just… I’ll get Macy.” With that, she fled around the bed and out of the room. Harry had an exclamation on the tip of his tongue and didn’t know what to do with it. He was lost once again.

He took a look at his appearance. His shirt was crisp, ironed that very morning, with no stains at first notice. His pants too were freshly pressed and without any obvious fault, creased only from his seated position and the building bulge at his buckle. But otherwise-

_Oh!_

“Blimey!” he exclaimed, looking back up at the bare wall, where Maggie had just stood. Where James had stood.

“Harry. Maggie said you needed my assistance.”

He swallowed again, almost choking this time.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/katasstropheee) for more weird antics, and future fic previews.


End file.
